


When The Rest Of The World Isn't Paying Attention

by 17craic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sex (non-graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17craic/pseuds/17craic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More pretty words with very little plot. But that's the beauty of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Rest Of The World Isn't Paying Attention

Louis loves Harry’s hair. He loves the stupid shake up and smooth down that Harry uses to fix it and how soft it is when he knots his fingers into it. Louis loves Harry’s hair when it’s wet and slick on his neck with droplets of light clinging to the ends or rolling down his back. Louis loves it halfway in between too, when Harry’s damp with sweat and the air is humid but they can’t tell whether that’s from them or if it was this hot before. It doesn’t really matter either way because their shining bodies are pressed together and the only sound is their panting breath and oh God, Harry feels so amazing under him.  
  
To Louis, Harry means eyes that change colour and barely any milk in his tea and long mornings in bed while the rain hammers on the window panes. He means shared clothes and bookshops and big hands that fit around his or cup his jaw for the sweetest kiss. He means shy glances and the Star Wars box set and fountains because Harry loves fountains and always insists on sitting in front of them to watch the water fall back to earth as they listen to its rhythmic splash. He means macaroni cheese and warmth pressed up to him and walks in the forest so that three days later their clothes smell of pine needles still, and most of all he means feeling safe.  
  
Louis tells Harry these things and he’s rewarded with a smile that’s only for his eyes and so genuine it hurts but in the best way.  
  
Sometimes, Harry simply stares at Louis. He knows every sharp plane of his cheeks and his jaw, and each precise ring of grey and blue in his eyes by heart, but he still likes to look. Harry is always hungry for the sight of Louis’ ridiculously tanned skin, his faint trace of stubble, his long, girly eyelashes, his soft strands of hair falling into his eyes and his stupidly kissable lips. If Louis is trying to concentrate, he complains about the staring and Harry can’t watch his face anymore, so he shifts his focus to Louis’ delicate hands. His fingers dance quickly and accurately across his phone’s keypad, across his laptop’s keyboard, across the cracked enamel of the old upright piano that Harry rescued for him last Christmas.  
  
When Louis plays, Harry sings and before long Louis will join in. He can’t resist the way their voices sound together, their effortless harmonising, and how good it feels to be doing this. Even though it’s their job to sing together, there’s still something about these moments when it’s just the two of them creating something beautiful together rather than with the other boys pleasing a faceless audience of thousands. Louis loves to hear the raw emotion that Harry pours into his husky voice when he can let his guard down in private.  
  
When they kiss, Harry thinks Louis tastes like apple pie, which he knows sounds silly but Louis’ mouth is warm and sweet and cinamonny from his gum and he has always just been eating shortbread because he adores it. His flavour intoxicates Harry, leaving his head spinning but it’s so good and he wouldn’t give it up for the world.  
  
Spending time with Louis can be a lot like being with a twelve-year-old but it doesn’t really matter because they’re both smiling and anyway, since when have either of them cared if they’re childish?  
  
They laugh a lot when they’re alone and it’s nice because even though life has given them so much, it has taken a lot from them too and it can sometimes seem like there aren’t many reasons to smile. But they’re each other’s reason to be happy and so they lose themselves in each other while the days fly by and they don’t even notice, but then again, it is called the fast life.  
  
Then there’s all the private little things Louis does that Harry knows are only his and of course he likes it best that way but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to stand on a rooftop and scream to the world that Louis is all his.  
  
When Louis innocently brushes his skin against Harry’s in public, it makes the hairs on his arms stand up and makes him shiver while Louis smirks, knowing full well the effect he can have on Harry.  
  
He also knows that Harry can just as easily do the same to him with a sideways smile or his hot breath on Louis’ neck.  
  
When the rest of the world isn’t paying attention because the moon is out and streetlights illuminate empty roads and everyone else is asleep, there’s a red hot fire in their chests and the only way the two of them know to calm it is through their desperate embrace.  
  
Usually Harry is on his stomach clenching the sheets in his fists while Louis presses kisses onto his neck, his back, and his shoulders as he makes Harry moan. When Louis lets Harry top, he likes to kneel either side of Harry’s lap so he can still kiss every inch of him that he can reach and bite on his collarbone and dig his fingers into his back.  
  
When they’re cooled off and their breathing has become somewhat normal, they do it all over again, but this time it’s slow and impossibly sweet and Louis lies on his back so they’re chest to chest with Louis’ legs wrapped tight around Harry’s waist and they kiss like they’re each other’s drug, which, in a way, they are.  
  
Their mouths together are so hot and wet but there’s so much love in it. Louis feels dizzy when he sees Harry’s cheeks are flushed and he has bruises from Louis’ own mouth and his hair is stupidly messy. Afterwards, Harry wears that elated smile and Louis would have to be heartless if he remained straight-faced because that kind of joy is infectious. So they grin until they realises how idiotic they look and then they laugh at themselves while Louis plays with Harry’s hair and Harry traces patterns onto Louis’ side.  
  
When they think about it, it seems sort of crazy, but they really are so right together and they both know how incredibly lucky they are to have found this here in each others’ arms. Even though they’re so young, there’s one thing they’re sure of about the future – that they will love each other to their final breath.  
  
So they pass the days with their fingers locked together and fudge from the corner shop and cold tea because they always forget about it when they’re together. And soon they’ll be flying away to another month of stolen moments backstage or after midnight in hotel rooms.  
  
But for now, they hide from the rain and while away their time in each other’s arms, in each other’s eyes.


End file.
